forty-eight hours
by ShinigamiForever
Summary: Draco uses Seamus as a substitute for Harry. Rather sad and angsty. Slash- Draco/Seamus, Draco/Harry


48 hours  
By: ShinigamiForever  
  
A/N: Yet another written for LJ. As I said, I'm a review whore. So sue me.  
  
  
I have loved you for 48 hours, and for 48 hours you have loved me.  
I have loved you for 48 hours, and for 48 hours you have loved me.  
But.  
I will love you for 72 hours, and in 72 hours you will hate me.  
And  
I will love you for eternity, and for eternity you will forget me.  
I have loved you, I have loved you, oh yes, I have loved you. But you have not loved me.  
  
  
I have abused you for 48 hours, and for 48 hours you will still love me.  
I have abused you for 48 hours, and for 48 hours you will still love me.  
But.  
I will ignore you for 72 hours, and in 72 hours you will forget me.  
And  
I will regret you for eternity, and for eternity, you will despise me.  
I have loved, I have loved, oh yes, I have loved. But I have not loved you.  
  
  
You are not so much cold but more too startling loud and warm in your skin, under the skin even, to where your desires sneak away in the lines of the blue and green. Like when you scald my tongue with yours, and everytime I try to taste anything, I taste only you and your warm fleeting heat that is almost cold. Almost. The way you make me shiver and boil over when I think that you are watching me, only to find that it is him that you are looking at, it is him that you are trying to brand with your eyes, the heavy lidded angry gray of fog. It's almost the mottled gray of a pepper jelly bean. I think if I can ever taste your eyes, they will be that flavor, tangy and sharp and antagonistic.  
  
  
I kiss you because you are the closest I will ever get to him, and you know this, and I know this, and I know that you know. Yet, you still lean close and fumble your fingers down my robes, and comply when I slide palms against your stomach. And you don't really seem to min when I scream his name instead of yours in your ear, because you're too busy pretending that you are really you to me and not him. And I love you, but not in the way you want, I love you because I love him and you are much more a part of him in such an abstract way.  
  
  
"I used to have a crush on you. Back in fifth year."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"The goody goody Gryffindor lusting after a Slytherin?"  
  
"Shut up. I'm the one and only Gryffindor whore, remember?"  
  
"It's not as if I particularily care."  
  
"That's right. You never care."  
  
"I didn't say that."  
  
"You did."  
  
"What I meant to say-- I mean-- oh forget it."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Don't try to kiss me and make it up."  
  
"Oh yeah? And how are you going to stop me?"  
  
"Oy! OY! Off, Draco! Mmph--"  
  
(the squeak of bedsprings)  
  
  
You love me, you love me not, you love me, you love me not, you love me, you love me not...  
Or rather, you love me not. You love him.  
You love me not, you love him, you love me not, you love him.  
I think I like a better game.  
to capture thwarted hopes and dreams  
weave instead a daisy chain.  
Love, dear, is not at all what it seems.  
  
  
Forget, my dear Seamus, that I have ever kissed you.  
Listen.  
I know hurt, and hurt is in the air, as fragant as ashes, and I am so very very afraid.  
For me, as well as you.  
There are words that burn  
and thoughts that breathe  
And his name on my tongue  
Is in my dreams to seethe.  
  
  
The birds sound as if they are singing Sweet Clementine, a gentle cooing, and I am awakened in bed by their chirping, so distant, I might have missed if it wasn't for me being in the habit of being a light sleeper. Beside me, I can hear his light breathing, and I wonder what you would do if I threw him out the window right now. See what you have done to me? I'm even considering murder on one of my heroes. My friend. One of my best friends. See what I would do for you? All that I would do for you? I would even slit apart my wrists and bleed to death for you, all over your feet. See what I would do?  
  
  
There is sweet poetry in your hands, and fragrant music in your face, and lovely whisperings in your skin, and the underlining of so many kept promises in your voice, but it is not him, and I could never love anyway like I love him, love him with everything and more than he is worth, like stepping into an unending song and forcing yourself to dance through until the end, The instruments in the background, your heartbeat, thumping down away as if it would never stop, and he is beautiful in a million ways you could never be, but you smell his air and breathe his words, and that is such a privelege. You don't know, couldn't possibly know, how lucky you are.  
  
"So what do you plan on doing?"  
  
"Doing?"  
  
"Like, afterwards."  
  
"Afterwards? Well, I'll get out of bed, put on clothes--"  
  
"Not that, you git! I meant, with him. Harry."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Well?"  
  
"I haven't thought about it."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because."  
  
"Just because? You have to do something, I'm not going to just--"  
  
"I'm leaving."  
  
"let you-- Hey! Draco, I'm not done talking yet!"  
  
  
I have loved you for many hours, for at least 48, and you have loved me for the brief fractional section in which I was him.  
You have loved him for many lifetimes, for at least this one, but I have loved you for so much more that it is a crime.  
I have loved you, but you have not loved me. Not even for the brief 48 hours in which you were mine to claim.  
  
  
"I hate goodbyes."  
  
"This is goodbye, Finnigan. It's just what we should have done a long long time ago."  
  
"48 hours you loved me."  
  
"Yes, Finnigan. How many more will it take for you to forget me?"  
  
"As many as it takes for you to forget him."  
  
"Ah. So much more than 24."  
  
"So much more than 48."  
  
  
I have loved you.  
  
  
A/N: *dodges flying fruits and vegetables* Blame the music. Aqueous Transmission, by Incubus, made me cry for no reason whatsoever, and I had to write this. 


End file.
